The ASG chose to not vote on Resolution 26-02 during the meeting on Wednesday, April 15. Instead, they chose to remove the bill entirely, disrespecting the organizations affected and avoiding accountability. Expansion without foundation leads to collapse. Throughout my two semesters here at CMU, I’ve seen countless measures to expand our campus—apartments, buildings demolished for parking, plans proposed, all lessons yet to be learned.
Many of these efforts are done not with the student in mind, but to support a façade. The ideal university which gets better each year, the ideal campus with plenty of parking, with thousands upon thousands of students in attendance, and fantastic programs which support student engagement.
I write this to say what we’ve all been thinking—this ideal university is not currently reflective of CMU. What goes on in the shadows is a series of shady, unpredictable decisions, characterized by brazen thought and ill-planned expansionism.
The purpose of college goes beyond just a piece of paper. These classes are meant to prepare us for real world opportunities—and these organizations supplement that. To defund them would be to put students at a great and undeniable disadvantage.
The Crite is a fantastic starting point for aspiring journalists and editors. Not only does it provide them experience in following leads and interviewing people, but it also promotes campus culture—and most importantly, is experience these individuals can point to when seeking employment. I used to work in journalism. It’s a brutal, thankless job, one that’s hard to land, and to take funding away from The Crite’s staff is to detract from their education and devalue their work.
The Literary Review is also a great place for editors to learn their craft—and a fantastic place for artists to share their art. Getting published is monumental, and another resume builder.
The Literary Review promotes a celebration of the arts, interconnectedness, political dialogue, culture, and community. This is a publication which celebrates CMU and demonstrates the capabilities of the student body. To defund it would be a tragedy, and hurts everyone, as anyone can submit. It’s also a notable part of CMU’s history. We are celebrating the past this year, and
what better way to get to know the alumni of a university than to consume the art they lovingly created?
If these publications were to be purely online affairs—as initially proposed by ASG
President Leilani Domingo— what happens during the next budget cuts? What happens when
suddenly, despite every promise made, the websites are shut down? What happens when nobody archives the work? What happens when years of CMU student history is deleted upon the whim of the next parking garage, the next cafeteria, the next residence hall?
There’s a reason why other universities don’t expand like CMU does; because of the cost. There is no reason why the organizations that truly support the student body should bear the weight of greed.
The Asteria Theatre is a fitting example of CMU’s peacocking, and an accurate depiction of the student experience. An imposing, externally beautiful piece of architectural work, it’s a monument to CMU’s “dedication to the arts.” However, this is only for outside eyes. Backstage,
The Asteria is a nightmare to perform in. Your voice doesn’t resonate. You cannot be heard by the very people who claim to want to hear you. You are reduced to nothing but an empty claim on a brochure, a face on a poster, a statistic for a campaign. You are nothing at all.
Hauntingly absent acoustics and metaphors aside, The Asteria’s backstage construction is, at best, lackluster, and at worst, a nightmare. They didn’t listen to professionals when planning and constructing the building. The exterior already needs repairs due to their choices in siding. Even then, the theatre itself holds value as a center for the arts. The parking structures, however? They bring to the table nothing but asphalt and imagery
